


In the Shadow of Your Heart

by Illuminahsti



Series: From Eden [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon Compliant, I don't know how season 2 ends but I'll just assume it works out okay, Juno Steel - Freeform, Other, Peter Nureyev - Freeform, Post S2, Post-Episode: s01e18 Juno Steel and the Final Resting Place, Rita - Freeform, i'm back on my bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 09:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16720422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illuminahsti/pseuds/Illuminahsti
Summary: With the image of Juno’s soft smile in his mind, Peter is reminded again that he wants a home, too.He is too scared even to ask for it.





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said that I Masquerade was over but it's still in my head every damn day so here is my gift to you! A sequel in the same vein. 
> 
> Title from Florence and the Machine's "Cosmic Love"

The Hyperion City that Peter returns to is not the one he had left. He had grown to love the city during his time on Mars, or rather, he had found things to love there. It was a sprawling city, built for anonymity, its slums the backbone that supported it. It was old and worn down, covered in a dust, but filled with fight and a stubborn optimism that made it a fitting home for his detective.  
Now, it is polished in a way that unsettles Peter. He watches the expanse of the city out of the viewing hatch of the transport ship, and he can barely orient himself among the fresh skyscrapers. The rotten wood and hastily stacked buildings of old town are gone, replaced with a network of apartment buildings, every one identical. They are laid out in neat squares, dotted in between with parks of sculpture and asphalt. Sky bridges stretch between the rooftop terraces of the buildings so no one ever needs to descend to the ground. It is a dizzying kaleidoscopic pattern of squares, and it might have dazzled Peter on another planet. He appreciates well planned cities, clean lines and minimalist design, but that is not what Hyperion City is.  
Hyperion City—Juno’s city—is jagged scars and inflexible connective tissue and grit in his teeth and rough edges. It has a heartbeat; it is messy and exposed and has no pretenses. Take it or leave it.  
Peter had taken it, all of it. The 40 story apartment buildings and the street vendors crammed into alleys and the glowing neon lights and violence born of impulsivity. He had wanted to return to it, open and honest as it was.  
Instead, he exits the transport terminal with a sinking unease. The city is different. It is quite possible that Juno will be different too, perhaps in a different office, a different apartment.  
He will be in the same city, at least. Peter has to believe in that. Juno, damaged as he was, would have gone to ground where he felt safe.

* * *

 

Last time Peter was in this city, he had been Octavius Green, an art dealer only in name. He had known Valles Vicky then, and she had been the one to get him touch with Juno. It would not be a bad path to take now.  
Arriving on Juno’s doorstep without warning would be insensitive, would be exactly what Peter does not want to do. He has returned to do what Juno deserves, to be kind to Juno, to make amends for what he has done. He can do none of that if he barges into Juno’s life when he is unwanted.  
So he finds himself outside of Valles Vicky’s Vixen Valley just before they open, pulling together Octavius Green with far less care than is wise.  
He is greeted by a man wearing very little, except for a generous amount of bronzer to contour his abs.  
“Hello. It’s Liam, isn’t it?”  
“Depends who’s asking?”  
“Oh,” he chuckles. “Silly me, of course you wouldn’t remember. I’m Octavius Green, an art dealer. I have a business arrangement with Ms. Vicky. Would you mind telling her I’m in?”  
“The boss isn’t taking appointments right now.”  
“Tell her this is regarding Juno Steel.”  
Liam makes a derisive noise. “Steel knows better than to show his face around here.”  
Green flinches at the venom in Todd’s voice. “I’m trying to track him down,” he presses, “do you maybe have a phone number for him?”  
“I’m sure he’s still in the same scummy little PI office. I have to go finish opening.” Just like that, Liam is gone and so is Peter’s lead. He turns up the pleated collar on his jacket and begins to wander the streets.  
Juno is his magnetic north, and he is pulled through the streets towards his office. That was where it all began, after all. He should go there.  
The feel of the city is different. It is early evening, and people should be abundant. Peter passes by restaurants with empty tables, small clusters of people who avert their eyes when he smiles at them. He is in a middle class neighborhood, one of the few that exist in Hyperion City, but the people seem frightened. With a habit so ingrained that it doesn’t happen with conscious thought, Peter looks skyward. He sees none of the traits of the Guardian Angel; no traces of electricity in the sky, no geometric clouds, but the unease remains. Something has taken the city over.  
He begins to walk faster. 

* * *

 

Juno should be home by now; it is several hours past closing time at other office buildings. Juno seems the type to work late, but Peter hopes that he is home and safe.  
Perhaps, Juno is even happy.  
He catches a taxi to a grocery store several blocks from Juno’s apartment, and then walks the rest of the way.  
He scales the fire escape across the street and finds a platform to settle himself on. This neighborhood has not been gentrified; the fire escape is rusty and unstable in places, and the brick is pitted with age. Peter braces himself against a window frame, pulls his collar up to hide his face, and takes binoculars out of one of his many pockets.  
He can see Juno in his kitchen, poking at something in a cooking pot. His hair is neatly trimmed, there is even a design shaved into the side. He is wearing an oversized sweater and nodding his head gently as he stirs. When he turns, it shows dark eyepatch over his missing eye. He looks healthy, nearly happy.  
Peter scans the rest of the room carefully. Another man is asleep on the sofa, mouth open as he breathes. Peter can imagine the snores. This man is all elbows and knees, his clothes are disheveled, and his long dreads are spread across the threadbare arm of the sofa. A woman—Juno’s secretary, Peter remembers—is sitting on the floor, playing with something too small for Peter to make out. She is a splash of color in the room, all orange and pink and rhinestones.  
Juno turns from the stove and says something. Rita nods and turns to shove the man on the couch. He wakes with a start and a goofy smile, and then sits up to make room.  
All three of them pile onto the sofa, and Juno passes a bowl of popcorn to the other man.  
Peter’s heart aches with longing.  
This is what he wanted for Juno, what he still wants for Juno. There is a soft smile on Juno’s face, and Peter can guess that they are watching a movie from the way Rita’s eyes are fixed straight ahead at the wall Peter cannot see. Peter strains for some sign of familiarity in the way Juno and the other man interact, if perhaps Juno has found another to share his life with, but there is none that Peter can discern. Juno neither holds himself away in denial of his feelings nor leans forward to seek touch.  
The man with the dreadlocks begins to talk, his smile visible even across the street. He speaks as much with his hands as he does with his mouth, moving like a puppet with the strings cut. Juno is frowning, leaning around Rita to try to follow whatever the man is saying. He waves an arm wildly and flings the popcorn across the room. There is a wild flurry of movement as they all scramble to clean up.  
Peter puts down his binoculars. This is what he came to see. Juno is happy, and safe. Whatever has happened to his city, he has made a sort of peace with it.  
Peter doesn’t know if that makes things easier or harder.  
Perhaps, Juno might be willing to take him back, now that his wounds are not so fresh.  
Perhaps, now that he has moved on, he will be unwilling to reopen those wounds. 

Peter climbs down from the fire escape and goes to find a taxi back to his hotel. He is not ready to see Juno, not yet. Something sticks in his chest, right behind his breastbone, when he thinks of laying himself bare to him.  
It is too much, too raw, too all consuming.  
If Juno is his entire existence, his gravitational center, then surrendering to him will be something Peter cannot come back from. That is a terrifying thought.  
It may be a welcome thought, that after twenty years of wandering, he might have someone to return to, but that also means the cost of failure is too big to properly comprehend.  
Juno is happy. Juno is safe.  
Juno may not have room in his life for one such as Peter, unmoored and dangerous.


	2. Week One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanders the city, entirely anonymous. He doesn’t need a name, or an identity, or a motivation. He is waiting.

Alcyon Sultano lived in Peter’s skin for weeks; he lingers even now, and he is bitter. The taste of it sits on Peter’s tongue when he least expects it, creeps up and chokes him. Juno can be happy, and he cannot.  
It is a selfish thought, and he hates that it takes up residence in his spiteful mouth, but it will not leave. He has spent every moment, every identity, every planet, longing for Juno Steel, and here Juno is, with his family and his city and his own life.  
Jealousy is not something Alcyon Sultano can feel, but oh, Peter feels it. Peter is consumed by it. It has propelled forward every step he has taken for the entirety of his lonely existence. He envies others their safety, their families, their possessions, their anchors. He jealously guards what he has scrabbled together for himself: his freedom, his wealth, his culture, his excitement. He loves it, and resents any threat to it.  
Until Juno Steel.  
Now, with the image of Juno’s soft smile bestowed on someone who isn’t him, he is reminded again that he wants more. He wants a home.  
Alcyon Sultano will kill to gain it.  
Peter Nureyev is too scared even to ask for it.

* * *

He wanders the city, entirely anonymous. He doesn’t need a name, or an identity, or a motivation. He is waiting.  
A voice in his head asks, waiting for what?  
He has no answers. He is only waiting

* * *

He reads news streams and listens to gossip. He learns the fate of Oldtown, the fate of Mayor O’Flaherty. It takes digging, but he pieces together Juno’s involvement.  
It makes him sick.  
The Theia were not the Guardian Angel System, but they were close enough. People’s free will was eclipsed by the need for order.  
Juno, like Peter, wanted to believe in a man with a vision, and was betrayed.

* * *

He haunts the café by Juno’s office. He can watch Juno come to work, watch the building as lights turn off at the end of office hours, watch the light remain on in Juno’s office.  
The first day, the café closes before Juno leave. The next, Peter gets to watch him walk home.  
His clothes are different, now. He still wears a long trench coat, but this one is black instead of a washed out brown, the stitching is fresh. Peter suspects it has bullet proof paneling in it.  
When Juno leaves on time, he walks with his secretary. She chatters to him happily while they circle the block to their cars. Juno doesn’t say much, but he smiles.  
Juno’s car is different too, newer. Both of the hover blasters work and the paint job is a single color.  
A week into his stalking of Juno Steel, Peter is ready to pack his things and leave. He does not belong here.

* * *

Sultano wants things, and so he takes them. He is angry, with the kind of anger that freezes veins in place and makes a man sit, for nine days, in a café outside his lover’s office while he plans his revenge.  
Alcyon Sultano will force Juno Steel to hear his anger, to face it. He was left alone, in a cold bed in a strange city, and the man who was Peter Nureyev might know he deserved it, but Alcyon Sultano makes no space for guilt in his icy heart.

* * *

Sultano stands outside Juno’s apartment door for what feels like hours, the fluorescents flickering, the sounds of a movie coming from inside. He tries a dozen times to take that final tiny step, to touch the door. He knows what he will say to Juno. 

He does not love Juno Steel. He put love away a long time ago, in the time when he was crystalizing into being.  
Juno Steel will not love him. He is platinum and violence and bitter, bitter anger. 

Sultano brought him to Juno’s door, but he cannot make him open it. Peter Nureyev cannot bring that violence into his lover’s home. Sultano cannot touch Juno with the tenderness that he deserves. 

Reconciliation means nothing if it is tainted with possessiveness. Peter wants Juno to love him openly. He cannot be forced. 

In the end, Peter walks away.


	3. Week Two

They find him on the street outside his hotel. If they had worn uniforms or showed weapons, Peter might have given them the slip. Instead, they wear street clothes and come out of doorways when he passes, like they have been waiting for him. Peter catches a sight of a badge before he is cuffed and a bag is forced over his head. 

When the bag is removed, he is in a sterile white room, cuffed to the chair he sits on. A half circle of people stand before him in crisp, ice-blue uniforms.   
“You took off your disguises for me,” he says. “I’m touched.”   
“Are you the criminal known as Alcyon Sultano?” A woman asks, her voice crisp. She is severe lines contoured by the silver edging on her uniform. Her badge is a trident.   
Peter doesn’t answer.   
“You are charged by the Neptunian emperor with fifteen counts of murder, as well as theft, treason, and aiding and abetting the criminal known as Wren Huntington. How do you plead?”   
Peter says, “I can’t be charged with treason, I’m not Neptunian.” As if that matters. As if he can defend himself.   
“But you are Alcyon Sultano.”   
There are twelve of them, ranged around him. Too many to survive. Even if he slips from this chamber—which would be easy, the lock pick is already in his hand—one of them will shoot him. These are not furious mobsters, they are trained law enforcement. The best of the best, sent across a galaxy to bring him into custody.   
Peter tilts his head back and smiles. It is Sultano’s smile, daring her to move closer. “I am not him,” he says. Deny, deny, and stall.   
The woman in front of him glowers. “Tell me where to find him, then.”   
“I’ve been on Mars for months.”   
“We followed you onto your star ship and all the way to this shit hole of a city. Now confess, or we’ll drag you back to Neptune and question you there.”   
There are no visible exits. There are no visible corners to hide in. Only him, a dozen officers, and the barrel of a gun.   
“I die here, or I die there?”   
“You understand.”   
Well. It is what he deserves. His anger, his recklessness, his loss, had led him to commit those crimes. He had let those feelings consume him, and he will pay the price.  
If only he had seen Juno, if only he had knocked on that door.   
_If only._

He cannot leave Mars without speaking to Juno again.   
“You won’t get a confession from me,” he promises. “I am not Alcyon Sultano.”   
The officer who is doing the talking pulls out a prod with a forked end. It crackles with electricity.   
Torture is illegal on the terrestrial planets, but Neptune’s many moons have never allowed themselves to be considered terrestrial. Peter knows what he is in for; Wren wouldn’t have fought so hard against the government if they hadn’t had a noble cause.   
Peter has two last cards up his sleeve. The first, the oldest, is his real name. If he can convince these galactic cops to hand him over to the Brahmese government, he might delay the inevitable.   
Patience has never been one of Peter’s virtues.   
“Comms,” he commands, in Sultano’s voice. “Compose message to Dahlia Rose. I am still a fool.”


	4. The Beginning of Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a voice he has heard in his dreams. He hears it when he Peter Nureyev and when he is not. Now he hears it when he is awake, and he is grateful.

Alcyon Sultano takes the torture stoically.  
_Peter Nureyev retreats, into the part of himself where it is always summer, where it smells of roses. If he concentrates, he can conjure the sounds of a Brahmese street band. The sky is blue, the blue of eyes that saw through every façade that Peter erected around himself._  
He spits answers at his questioner without any real knowledge of what he says. It does not matter. He does not confess.  
_The sky becomes a haze of red._  
Everybody has a limit, and she promises to find his.  
_He hears his screams._  
“Alcyon Sultano does not exist.”  
“Someone committed those crimes, and I need a confession.”  
“There is nothing to confess. I have never existed.”  
_The only smell is his burning flesh as she drives the prod into him again._

 

“Get your fucking hands off of him!”  
It is a voice he has heard in his dreams. He hears it when he Peter Nureyev and when he is not. Now he hears it when he is awake, and he is grateful.  
His fractured mind has always known how to protect him.  
He lifts his head, and there he is. Peter’s angel. Peter’s goddess.  
Juno wears the new trench coat, a smudge of ink against the white of the room. He looks otherworldly, only partially in existence, or perhaps it is Peter’s eyes that no longer function properly.  
He can barely spare a glance for the streak of orange beside Juno, his ears cannot absorb the words she speaks at a volume and speed too fast for human comprehension. His every atom strains to be closer to his salvation.  
“Juno,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse from screaming. “Oh, Juno, I’m so sorry.”  
He begins to cry.  
Juno kneels in front of him, puts his blaster to Peter’s cuffs and shatters them. Peter slides forward, off the chair and into Juno’s arms. His head is on Juno’s shoulders, and strong arms are around his body. He cannot stop the sobs that wrack through his body. He hasn’t cried like this in decades, has never let his control break. Now that he has started, he may never stop. He fights for breath as Juno cradles him, murmurs in his ear.  
If Peter dies right now, he will be happy. The building could come down around them, and he would not notice. There is no one in the room but him and Juno.  
“You’re okay,” Juno whispers. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”  
“I know,” Peter says. “You’re here.”  
“Can you stand?” Juno asks.  
It is a meaningless question. Peter doesn’t need to stand. He needs to lie here, smell Juno’s skin, and let his grasping hands hold the most precious thing he has ever known.  
“Sweetheart, we have to get out of here.” Juno’s hands comb through Peter’s hair, and he has never been touched so gently.  
“No,” Peter says. “I need to—I need to talk.”  
“You can barely speak.”  
“No, Juno—” Peter chokes on his tears.  
“We’ll have time to talk,” Juno promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
“You should,” Peter says. “I’m no good for you, I’m dangerous—”  
Juno laughs, and Peter’s heart shatters.  
“Now I know you’re delirious. I’m the one who left.”  
“You should have—  
“And I’ve regretted it every day since. I’m not doing it again. You’ll have to send me away.”  
“Never,” Peter gasps against Juno’s throat. “Please, please, stay with me.”  
“Boss, we’re free to go,” Rita says, from light years away.  
Juno lifts Peter and carries him, and Peter knows he should walk, but he can’t bring himself to protest. He hooks an arm around Juno’s shoulders and presses closer.

He still won’t let go when they reach the car, so Juno puts him in the backseat and climbs in after him. Rita drives.  
Even she is quiet as they speed through the city. Peter’s head is in Juno’s lap, and every time they pass a streetlamp, Juno’s face is illuminated with golden light. He is so beautiful that Peter begins to cry again.  
Juno makes soft hushing noises as he combs Peter’s hair with his fingers. “Are you in pain?” he asks.  
The question threatens to bring Peter back to his bruised and burned body, but he forces that away.  
“How did you get me out?” he asks.  
“That was all Rita,” Juno says.  
“It was nothin’,” Rita says. “I just recited galactic law at them until they tucked their tails and ran,” Rita said. “Torture isn’t legal on Mars, and what they were doin’ to you couldn’t possibly be defined as anything else. And you may be wanted be the Neptunian Emperor—they showed me the warrant, and I gotta say, Mister Glass, Alcyon Sultano is kind of a mouthful—but the warrant didn’t extend to Martian jurisdiction. So I just had to threaten to bring the HCPD down on them and they realized that they could be facing up against the citizen’s protection bureau if I was feelin’ litigious. Which I am, because no one deserves what they did to you, but I think Mistah Steel and I felt it was better to get you out of there fast.”  
Peter closes his eyes and lets her words wash over him. He is certain he will retain none of them in the morning, but he hopes the flood of warmth and gratitude in his chest will linger.  
“Thank you, Rita,” Juno says, and his voice cracks.  
Peter will do anything to hear more of Juno’s voice. He forces tired eyes open to look again into Juno’s face.  
“How did you find me?” he asks.  
“I had Rita track your message,” Juno says.  
“How did you know I needed you?”  
“I would have come anyway,” Juno says. “I’ve been looking for you.”  
That is more than Peter’s fragile state can handle. That Juno has been looking for him, searching for him in the stars while he wasted time on bitterness and anger and fear.  
“Oh Juno,” he says, and there is nothing else that he can think to say.  
“Peter,” Juno breathes. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”  
There is so much raw emotion in those two syllables that he can feel it slip into his bones to become a part of him. He is made and unmade in the way his name is said; he knows that now there will always be a part of him that remembers he is Peter Nureyev.  
“Say it again,” he begs, and Juno does.  
“Peter,” he whispers, voice thick. “Peter, Peter.”  
His name in his goddess’ mouth is a talisman, a promise.  
This moment of beatification is the moment he wants to live in forever.  
Juno blinks, and tears fall on Peter’s face. They both are crying, in the backseat of a car in the middle of the night, and the stars have never shone so bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a ride. This chapter has my favorite line of the whole series! Try to guess it? 
> 
> Song for this chapter is (obv) Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machine. 
> 
> Epilogue goes up tomorrow, but it's pretty tonally different, so I'll be putting it up as a separate fic in the series.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole thing is more or less drafted so I'll be posting approximately every day. I'm on tumblr at Alecjmarsh if you want to talk.


End file.
